


5 times Stiles tries to seduce his dad with no success + 1 time he doesn't even need to

by lavenderlotion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cheek Kisses, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Disappointment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endearments, First Kiss, Flirting, Getting Together, Hugging, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Intimacy, Jealousy, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Non-Explicit Masturbation, Pet Names, Pining, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Teasing, Underwear Theft, care taking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: A lot of people wanted things that they shouldn’t want, right? People wanted to, like, drive over the speed limit even though it wasn’t safe! And do drugs! People did cocaine, and meth, and all types of other crazy drugs!This was way better! Er... alright, maybe it wasn’tbetterbetter, but it wasn’t as bad, right? Maybe?Huh, okay. It may have been just as bad, but other people did things they shouldn’t do, why couldn’t he?And, well... most people didn’t want to fuck their Dad, so. Maybe that wasn’t a very good comparison.Yeah, okay. Not a great comparison.
Relationships: Sheriff Stilinski/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 57
Kudos: 168





	5 times Stiles tries to seduce his dad with no success + 1 time he doesn't even need to

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a quick one-shot... i can't believe it hit 10k omg :bottom_face:

**1\. Trip**

Stiles had a plan. It was a totally great plan, too, that was totally going to work out. If he told himself enough times that it was going to work, then there was no way it was going to fail! That was like... totally a thing. Right? Manifestation through repetition! If he kept putting the  _ vibes _ into the universe then the universe would reward him with what he wanted. 

Right? 

God, he  _ hoped _ the universe was going to reward him with what he wanted, even if what he wanted was totally not something that he should want. Like...  _ really _ not something that he should want. But hey, that was okay! A lot of people wanted things that they shouldn’t want, right? People wanted to, like, drive over the speed limit even though it wasn’t safe! And do drugs! People did cocaine, and meth, and all types of other crazy drugs! 

At least he wasn’t out doing  _ drugs  _ like other teens his age. This was way better! Er... alright, maybe it wasn’t  _ better _ better, but it wasn’t as bad, right? Maybe? 

Huh, okay. It may have been just as bad, but if other people did things they shouldn’t do, why couldn’t he?

And, well... most people didn’t want to fuck their Dad, so. Maybe that wasn’t a very good comparison. 

Yeah, okay. Not a great comparison. 

Taboo aside, Stiles wanted to fuck his dad. He could own up to that. He could admit it to himself. Well,  _ now _ he could, seeing as he’d repressed it for the last decade, but repressing was out! Acceptance was in! And Stiles was working to accept the fact that he wanted to fuck his dad and that, maybe, if he wasn’t completely deluding himself with a lifetime’s worth of wishful thinking his dad... wanted to fuck him too. 

Sure, it was everything that Stiles wanted, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be true. He could totally want his dad to fuck him and his dad could totally want to fuck him, too, because Stiles totally deserved some kudos from the universe and it seemed like dad-fucking was a pretty even trade-off for the shit-show that was his life (seriously. A shit-show. All the time!). 

There were  _ reasons _ that Stiles was pretty sure his dad wanted to fuck him. He was the Sheriff’s son—he didn’t just come up with this stuff without any evidence to back it up. In fact, Stiles had three pieces of evidence typed up on a password-protected note on his phone (to keep safe, of course). 

One: Dad hugged him for questionable amounts of time. Every time. 

Two: Dad let them sleep in the same bed when Stiles had nightmares, but always left before Stiles woke up (which Stiles was pretty sure meant he was hiding son-inspired morning wood).

Three: When Dad told him he loved him, Stiles could hear the echo of something more layered over his words, and could see it in his eyes. 

There were also  _ other _ things, the things that the two of them never talked about. The cuddling. The cheek kisses. The fact that his dad didn’t let him walk around without a shirt on anymore and hadn’t for, like, years. The lingering looks they shared and the way he knew exactly what Dad’s hand felt like in his own from how many times he’d held it as they drove around town. 

The things they didn’t talk about, because Stiles wasn’t brave enough and his dad—well he didn’t know why his dad never talked about them, but he was going to find out. 

After all, he had a plan.

_ And _ the plan was going to work. He was sure of it. 

Not only was the plan going to work, but today was the day! Today was the day that Stiles was going to put his plan into action and find out  _ why _ they didn’t talk about so many things that all pointed to one answer and one answer only. It was the day he was going to fuck his dad! 

Okay... maybe he wouldn’t fuck his dad today, ‘cause that would probably be a little too soon, but he  _ was _ going to totally get some kisses. 

With the thought of kisses, Stiles punched the air and gave a little cheer, glad that his bedroom door was closed. He gave himself a once-over in his mirror and told himself that it didn’t matter what he looked like, ‘cause if his dad wanted to fuck him it was probably for his personality and not just his body. Well,  _ hopefully _ it was for his personality  _ and _ his body, but he’d accept the former if he had to. 

Stiles’ eyes fell on his desk chair and he hummed consideringly as he took in the hoodie tossed over the back. It was black, once, but now looked dark-grey at most. Stiles knew there was a worn-out logo on the front. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he considered throwing it on. It was cool enough outside to call for it, so it wouldn’t be suspicious... 

With a widening-grin, Stiles quickly shuffled across his room to grab his dad’s old  _ Beacon Hills Sheriff Department _ hoodie and threw it on over his graphic tee, making a soft noise as the scent of his dad washed over him. He normally only wore his dad’s clothes around the house—which was something that  _ always _ got him a lingering look and a pleased smile—but if Stiles was really going to make this happen, he was going to have to step up his game. 

Dad’s sweater was too big. Even though Stiles was towering near six feet, his dad still had a couple of inches on him and was bulkier, too. His favourite part about wearing Dad’s clothes was the loose fit, and he sometimes suspected Dad felt the same. 

With one final look in the mirror, Stiles repeated (a...  _ few _ times) that the plan was going to work, just to manifest it a little bit harder before he made his way downstairs. 

He could hear Dad crooning away in the kitchen, something old-timey playing from the speaker Stiles had set up a couple of months ago. He stopped in the entryway to watch, leaning against the wall. Dad was facing the stove, back to Stiles, and swaying his hips in a way that bordered on indecent as he moved around something frying on the stove. 

Stiles watched openly, done with sneaking shy, sly glances when he thought he could get away with it. Part of his plan, the plan that  _ was _ going to work (manifestation!) was that Stiles was going to be open with how badly he desired his dad. He wouldn’t keep hiding it, or trying to downplay it, if he wanted something to come of it. 

So when Dad turned out and let out a gasp, hand coming up to clutch at his bare chest, Stiles let his eyes track up from his groin, over his  _ very _ yummy torso, to his face. Slowly. By the time Stiles caught his dad’s eyes, his cheeks were flushing a pretty pink from under his fine layering of stubble. 

“Good morning,” Stiles said warmly, pushing off the wall to make his way over for a hug. 

Dad made a questioning sound, but he pulled Stiles in right away. Hugging Dad felt better than  _ anything,  _ with the way Stiles was able to tuck himself in against his dad’s chest. This morning Dad smelt  _ good.  _ Stiles could still smell the body wash on his skin from his shower, which after so many years of Dad using it went hand in hand with the scent of  _ safety _ in Stiles’ head.

The kitchen smelt like turkey bacon and freshly brewed coffee, and Stiles made a little noise of pleasure as he cuddled even closer and slipped his hands up Dad’s back to press between his shoulders as he held on tight. 

“Morning, kiddo,” Dad said warmly, his lips brushing Stiles’ temple. “How’d you sleep?”

“I slept good,” Stiles muttered against his chest, nuzzling in and letting his lips catch against Dad’s collarbone in a way that had him shivering. Stiles pressed a grin against his skin before he pulled back. “You?”

Dad made a noise that probably meant he hadn’t slept too well, and he slowly trailed his hands away from Stiles’ shoulders. “Could’ve slept better.”

“Did something keep you up?” Stiles asked as he stepped to the side to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

Dad watched him, his eyes lingering around Stiles’ chest (which was where the BHSD logo was) before he turned back to the stove where Stiles could now see he was scrambling eggs. 

“Just the usual stress. Parrish has been working on a case that he’s having a tough time with. I don’t mind mentoring him in the least, but the kid doesn’t have enough confidence in himself. He’s basically competing with Wilson, and you  _ know _ what Wilson can be like, so things aren’t going as well as they could be.”

“I can stop by after school,” Stiles offered. “He and I are close. I can speak to him, try to pep him up a bit.”

Dad looked over at him sharply, an expression on his face that made Stiles shiver. “You two are close?”

Stiles laughed, and didn’t mention the jealousy he could hear in his dad’s voice. 

Baby steps. 

“Yeah, Pops,” Stiles said, chickening out. “We talk a lot about the whole Hellhound thing. Jordan isn’t really close with any of the pack, ya know?”

_ “Jordan?” _

Stiles let out a laugh, sitting his cup on the counter so he could cross the few steps and press a lingering kiss to his dad’s cheek, breathing in sharply when his stubble caught against his lips. He dropped back onto the balls of his feet and ignored the dark red blush on Dad’s face and the way he was breathing deeply, and instead asked, “Did you make us breakfast?”

Dad swallowed heavily, and after a few more breaths, he said, “Y-Yeah. I couldn't sleep, so I got up to get this going. Can you watch these?”

Stiles nodded, taking the spatula from Dad’s hand and sucking in a breath when their fingers brushed together. “Sure,” he whispered, lost in his dad’s pale eyes before he stepped away. 

“Oh, and I made blueberry waffles,” Dad told him, sending Stiles a smile from over his shoulder when Stiles literally  _ squealed _ in delight. 

Blueberry waffles were  _ special. _ Dad hadn’t made them for him in almost a year, but if he was making them... Stiles couldn’t hold himself back, not anymore, not when love was filling his chest and making his heart feel impossibly big inside it. 

He did his best to ignore the nausea rolling over in his belly and focused instead on the way his heart was racing with excitement, and he told himself  _ it was going to work _ one last time before he put his plan into motion. 

“Thanks, Daddy!” Stiles chirped with a wide grin, and he watched happily as Dad tripped over his own foot and then crashed into the fridge, knocking off three different magnets. “Daddy, are you okay?”

Dad turned to him with wide, blown-out eyes. His mouth was dropped open in a way that was  _ indecent, _ holy shit Stiles was only a teenager  _ God have mercy,  _ and he looked at Stiles like he’d never seen him. Stiles did his best to look innocent, but he could feel the way his face was  _ burning _ with a blush that was definitely too dark to be anything innocent. Stiles caught his bottom lip between his teeth and did his best to look up from under his eyelashes in a way that was supposed to be simpering, and he watched Dad watch him with his heart up in his throat until—

“I have to go,” Dad said, sounding strangled, and then basically sprinted up the stairs. 

Stiles pouted at the suddenly empty kitchen, and slowly put his spatula down so he could hug his stomach.

Huh. 

That did  _ not _ go to plan. Not at all. 

**2\. Snap**

Stiles was  _ not _ going to let one little set back destroy him  _ or _ his plan. Sure, plan A didn’t bring fruition, but Stiles had  _ way _ more than just a plan A. Duh. 

No, he wouldn’t give up. He was going to persevere, because Stiles was a  _ fighter. _ Pushing on was in his blood, and he wasn’t just going to fold and give in  _ just _ because his dad didn’t fuck him when Stiles called him Daddy. Hell, that wasn’t even a realistic goal! All things considered, like the way Dad’s eyes had gone all dark and the way his cheeks had gone all red (and the fact that Stiles was  _ pretty sure _ his dad went upstairs to tug one out), Stiles knew that he’d actually made pretty good progress, and he  _ definitely _ wasn’t going to give up when he felt closer than ever to getting what he wanted. 

In fact, Stiles decided to count plan A a win when Dad had come back down into the kitchen in new pants, a tee-shirt, and blotchy cheeks. Stiles had smiled at him and called him  _ Daddy _ a few more times during breakfast, and by the time Stiles had left for school, Dad was stuttering and tripping over his own feet every second! 

_ Definitely _ a win, even if it was a setback.

All that meant was that Stiles needed to launch into plan B. He considered waiting a day or two for Dad to recover, but then realized that might not be the best bet. If he wanted his dad to make a move, he was going to have to get the man to snap! Obviously, Dad wanted him (see Stiles’ three pieces of key evidence, stored in the password-protected app on his phone) but he was holding himself back. 

Stiles just needed to get him over whatever that hurdle was. 

He figured the hurdle was some sort of internalized-guilt at wanting to fuck his son, but Stiles was  _ seriously _ over societal norms for holding his dad back. After all...  _ werewolves!  _ There was  _ no room _ for taboos when the monsters that went bump in the night were real. All Stiles wanted was his dad, and he knew it was mutual. He just needed to up the ante. Everyone had a breaking point, right? 

Huh... pushing someone to their breaking point just so that they’d fuck you (or, what Stiles really wanted: dramatically declare their undying love) wasn’t the most  _ romantic _ thing he’d ever heard of, but desperate times! It had been  _ years _ of tension layered over more tension, all starting when Stiles told his dad about the supernatural after Gerard had kidnapped him. 

That had been almost  _ two years ago, _ which kinda explained why Stiles was so desperate. You could only expect a teenage boy to go through so much lust and angst before he took matters into his own hands, right? And Stiles was  _ definitely _ taking things into his own hands. 

Stiles marched into the Sheriff’s station with a tray of coffees in one hand and determination in the other. Plan B was  _ the _ plan. It was the plan that was going to work, because one: it was a better plan, and two: he had spent  _ an entire school day _ not paying attention in class and instead  _ manifesting _ with  _ repetition _ to make sure the universe actually came the fuck through and did him a goddamn favour for once. 

Coffee and determination were all a boy needed, Stiles told himself firmly (in his head, of course, since he didn’t need any of the deputies thinking he was crazier than they already all did). He marched through the station with his determination wrapped around his shoulders and leaking from his pores like a cape, or the really fancy shawl things sometimes Lydia wore to formal pack-meetings. 

What did one need to get their Dad to fuck them? Coffee, determination, and a good plan! 

Luckily, Stiles had all three. 

Dad’s office wasn’t far into the pen. It was one of the few closed-off rooms, as the rest of the deputies had desk spaces in the wide room that consisted of most of the station. The door was cracked open, which was good, so Stiles made sure there wasn’t anyone too close to the office before hip-checking it open and then swinging it closed with the heel of his foot. 

“Hey, Daddy,” Stiles called, making sure the door was closed tightly first, of course.

He got to watch Dad’s head snap up to him, and his eyes were  _ really _ wide as he took in Stiles’ figure. 

“Stiles,” Dad breathed, his face getting red even as a smile curled around his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I already told you,” Stiles told him with a sly grin. “I’m here to cheer Jordan up!”

Dad’s smile fell off his face, and a crease formed between his eyebrows. Stiles snickered under his breath even as he tossed his backpack onto the couch in the corner, his own smile only getting wider when Dad let out a snappy, “I see.”

This time, Stiles laughed out loud. “Daddy, don’t be a brat,” Stiles teased, putting the coffee tray on top of the mini-fridge kept in the corner and plucking out Dad’s drink. “I brought you a mocha!”

That got him a raised eyebrow and a curious tilt to Dad’s head. “Kiddo... is there something you wanna tell me?”

Stiles’ face got a little warm. Dad didn’t call him  _ “Kiddo” _ as often as he used to, which was probably good seeing as Stiles has had one too many sex dreams that featured nothing more than Dad’s voice and that term as an endearment, but it also meant that every time Dad used it, Stiles’ heart got a little fluttery. 

“E-Everything is fine,” Stiles told him, which  _ was _ technically the truth. Sure, getting Dad to fuck him wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped, but he’d only had to resort to plan B! That wasn’t  _ too _ bad. 

Stiles moved across the room to place Dad’s take-out cup on his desk, setting it down gently on a coaster he’d painted for him back in grade school. The sight of it made him smile warmly, and he wondered if he was supposed to be touched that the guy he was in love with kept his childhood crafts. 

Considering the guy he was in love with his dad... well, he was pretty sure he could make up the rules as he went, so. Yeah, that was totally cool! 

“Did something happen at school?” Dad asked, with genuine worry in his voice and painted across his face. 

“Daddio,” Stiles said, a neutral nickname to cut down on the teasing. “I’m okay, really. I just wanted to get you something special.”

Dad’s face went soft, and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and brushing his hair off his forehead. Dad sent him a smile that crinkled his eyes handsomely, and Stiles’ heart sped up. 

“Thanks, kiddo,” Dad said, voice rougher than Stiles was expecting. 

Stiles got lost in Dad’s pale eyes, taking in the way they looked more green than blue in the station’s lighting. Dad was  _ gorgeous, _ with the stubble he still had from that morning dusted across his jaw and making it look sharper. His lips were chapped, but Stiles didn’t mind; he wondered if they’d feel rough against his own, and what they’d feel like against his skin.

The thought heated his cheeks with a blush, and Stiles’ heart started to race as he reminded himself of plan B. He could do this. He could  _ totally _ do this. 

“And I was getting Jordan a latte, anyway. Didn’t feel fair to only get my favourite deputy a special drink, and not my favourite Sheriff,” Stiles teased, batting his eyes and resting his hand on Dad’s shoulder. 

Because he was already touching him, he felt Dad go stiff even as his eyes dropped to his desk. “I don’t think you should be hanging around Jordan,” he said tersely, a tone in his voice he hadn’t heard since the last time he’d gotten home bloody and bruised from a run-in with the supernatural. 

Stiles slowly moved around Dad’s chair until he was standing behind him and could rest his hands on both shoulders. It was a familiar position. More than once Stiles had shown up to find Dad slumped over his desk and buried in work, and each time he’d come up behind him to rub the tension out of his shoulders. 

There was something that always felt special about being able to work the stress out of Dad’s body. Today, though, he didn’t get into a massage. Instead, he swept his thumbs across his shoulders slowly, touching just to touch. 

“Daddy,” Stiles said with a pout, doing his best to make it audible. “He’s my friend! You can’t just tell me I can’t talk to him.”

“Isn’t he a little... old to be your  _ friend?” _ He spat with more venom than Stiles was expecting. It took him aback, and he swayed a little in place as he watched Dad stare intensely at his computer screen. 

Slowly, a soft smile curled around his lips. Dad had never acted so jealous before. Which... sure, Stiles had only ever been open about a crush on Lydia that the entire  _ town _ knew was hopeless, so there’d never really been a chance for it before. Now that he was talking about someone else, someone his dad clearly thought could like him back, Stiles was seeing what green looked like on Dad, and... 

Well. He was getting a little hot under the collar. 

“Daddy, that isn’t fair! He’s only a few years older than me.”

“He’s  _ too _ old to be doing anything with you under the eyes of the law,” Dad snapped, which... 

Stiles grinned, glad that Dad had made the insinuation so Stiles wouldn’t have to. Plan B was going  _ way _ better than he’d been expecting, and he couldn’t help the smile that was splitting his cheeks. 

Slowly, Stiles leaned down. His heart was racing in his throat as he brushed his nose against the back of his dad’s neck. The man made a questioning noise, but Stiles shushed him as he brushed his nose up his scalp and breathed in the familiar scent of him. Slowly, so slowly, Stiles trailed his nose to Dad’s ear and made sure to breathe warmly over the skin. 

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Stiles whispered, ghosting his fingers over the back of Dad’s neck and making sure his lips brushed his ear. “We’re  _ just _ friends. I promise that I haven’t let him touch me. I’m saving that for someone  _ really _ special.”

Stiles pressed a soft, feather-light kiss to the skin below Dad’s ear, and the pen in Dad’s hand snapped loudly in half, shooting ink all over the file folder on his desk. Dad swore sharply, shoving back from his desk hard enough that when the back of his chair collided with Stiles’ stomach it knocked the air out of him. 

“Fuck, shit, Stiles, what the fucking—” Dad cut himself off with a  _ growl _ that went straight to Stiles’ dick, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be the slightest bit upset. 

Dad had  _ broken a pen.  _ Hell yeah! 

Stiles giggled as he skipped across the room to get paper towel, and made sure to let his hips sway as he left the office. 

He had a deputy to cheer up, after all. 

**3\. Freeze**

Disappointment didn’t hit till he got home. 

Stiles rode the wave of victory all through checking up on Jordan, which consisted of a bunch of  _ very _ harmless but really fun flirting. They’d come to the mutual understanding months ago that while they were attracted to each other, they were both romantically interested in someone else. Stiles was helping Jordan work up the courage to make a move on Derek by helping him flirt (and making out with him every now and again), since Jordan hadn’t ever tried to date anyone before and Derek, who was  _ totally _ into him, was being as stubborn as Dad. 

Which was the cause of Stiles’ disappointment. Not Derek—even if he  _ was _ kinda annoyed with the way he was stringing Jordan along by being horrifically obtuse—but Dad’s stubbornness. 

Sure, getting Dad to snap a pen just by whispering dirty-ish things into his ear had  _ felt _ like victory, but by the time Stiles had left the station, got home, ate some bread to fill the gap in his heart, and settled onto the couch, Stiles realized it wasn’t really a victory at all. 

Dad hadn’t  _ done _ anything. Stiles kept getting reactions out of him, yeah, but the whole  _ point _ of the freaking plan was for Dad to  _ do something _ and fuck him! And if Dad  _ wasn’t _ going to fuck him off the bat, then the plans were  _ at least _ supposed to get Stiles a few kisses and a heartfelt confession. Stiles hadn’t gotten any of that, and by the time he’d turned on a movie to act as background noise to his wandering thoughts, he’d realized just how disappointed he felt. 

Plan A had been a setback, but plan B felt like something more. A sign? Maybe Dad  _ didn’t _ want him and Stiles had just made it all up in his head. He didn’t need to bring up his password-protected note app to know what his list of evidence was, and while it sure as hell painted a really freaking clear picture to  _ him, _ maybe... maybe Dad didn’t see any of it that way?

Was it possible that Stiles was just seeing things that he wanted to see? 

Maybe Dad didn’t want him. Maybe it wasn’t even because he was his  _ dad. _ Sure, Jordan flirted with him and had told Stiles he thought he was really hot, but... no one else had ever said anything like that. Maybe he really  _ was _ unattractive, even if he just thought he was a little out of proportion and was mostly an acquired taste. He’d thought that Dad had acquired that taste, but... maybe he didn’t? 

Maybe it wasn’t because they were family. Maybe Dad just didn’t want him. 

Stiles tried not to think about that as the hours ticked by. He knew Dad was only supposed to work till six, but when eight rolled around and he still wasn’t home, something tight and dark coiled around Stiles’ heart in a way he didn’t like. 

When his movie ended, Stiles played the first one Netflix recommended and kept waiting. 

Stiles didn’t say anything when Dad got home. He didn’t say anything when Dad called his name, or when the man stopped in the archway to the living room and looked at him. He kept his eyes glued to the TV, reciting lines of the Marvel movie he had playing for noise. He didn’t say anything when Dad went upstairs, or when the shower turned on. Stiles kept himself curled up, ignoring the way his heart felt heavy and his eyes burned on and off. 

It was fine. He just needed to rest. To regroup. Tell himself that everything was going to be okay. 

He’d be fine. 

When Dad made his way back to the living room, half an hour later, Stiles wasn’t feeling fine. Stiles wasn’t feeling anything other than broken up, even if he was trying to ignore the swirling thoughts and pounding of his heart and convince himself that everything was okay. Dad didn’t  _ have _ to like him back. Just because Stiles was in love with him and wanted him more than he’d ever wanted  _ anything _ in his entire life, didn’t mean Dad had to feel the same way, no matter how certain Stiles had been. 

Dad didn’t say anything, which Stiles appreciated. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he did. 

Stiles focused on the movie as Dad sat on the corner cushion. When the leg rest popped up it jolted the couch, a little, but Stiles did his best to ignore it. He had to breathe deeply to keep from crying as he listened to Dad shuffle around and get comfortable, before the man let out a long, tired-sounding breath. 

“C’mere, kiddo,” Dad said softly, and he reached out to wrap a warm, heavy arm around Stiles’ waist. 

Dad grunted as he dragged Stiles halfway across a cushion and into his side. 

Stiles made a sharp,  _ needy _ noise and curled up closer, lifting a leg to drape it heavily over his dad’s lap as he burrowed against his chest. He pressed his knee into Dad’s far thigh, sliding his hand over his belly as he moved around until he was all but straddling his dad’s stretched out leg, pressed against his side. He wanted to say something, anything, but silence stretched between them as they settled. Stiles’ heart was  _ racing, _ so fast it sounded like a hummingbird in his ears, and he didn’t know what to do. 

Dad pulled him closer still, and Stiles made a soft, desperate type of sound when Dad suddenly went stock-still and stopped breathing. He shifted closer, worried, and hummed questioningly since words felt too far away. Stiles twisted his hand into Dad’s t-shirt and knew he was being needy as he trailed his foot down his calf, but he couldn’t make himself stop. 

Dad relaxed once Stiles’ knee was away from his crotch, which brought something like a smile to his face. As bad as Stiles had felt only minutes earlier, he wasn’t able to ignore something like this. There was no world wherein he could wrap himself up in his dad like  _ this _ and not have it mean something. 

Stiles took a deep breath that smelt like home, like safety and  _ Dad, _ and reminded himself of all the reasons he was sure Dad wanted him. The way that Dad had tripped over his feet just because Stiles called him  _ “Daddy”, _ the way he’d snapped a pen just because Stiles had whispered in his ear, the way he drew Stiles  _ so _ close and rested a hot and heavy hand, a hand that felt like a  _ brand, _ on his hip. 

With each breath he took, he reminded himself of something, anything, that proved his dad wanted him. He  _ wasn’t _ reading into things, wasn’t seeing what he wanted, not when Dad would come downstairs and draw him halfway into his lap like it was a  _ normal _ way for a Dad to watch movies with his son. 

No, there wasn’t anything normal about how much they loved each other. Stiles was sure of it. 

Stiles said nothing, and neither did Dad. It was okay. With Dad, Stiles was able to enjoy silence. He listened to the man’s heartbeat as his eyes grew heavy, and he let himself drift off thinking about just how much his dad must love him.

He’d try plan C later.

**4\. Stammer**

When Stiles woke up alone on the couch, he wasn’t upset. Stiles knew that Dad’s back had been bothering him and there was absolutely no way the man could’ve slept on the couch with him, so it wasn’t like he was gonna hold it against the man. Besides, Stiles woke up laid out comfortably along the length of the couch, covered in a blanket with a pillow under his head, so he  _ really _ hadn’t been upset that Dad had left him to sleep alone. 

He  _ was _ a little upset when he found a text on his phone stating that the man had gone into work. Saturdays were  _ their  _ days for the last few months, and Stiles did his best not to spiral back into the dark thoughts of the night before just because he was alone. 

Being alone had its perks, anyway. 

Stiles (embarrassingly, shamefully, regrettably) riffled through his dad’s laundry to find a worn pair of briefs before having a long, slow love-making session with his right hand and  _ lots _ of lube that had him coming so hard a few spurts hit his face. He took a shower that was almost a half-hour long and didn’t even feel bad for all the hot water, not when he stepped out feeling better than he’d felt in  _ days. _

There was something refreshing about falling into a pit of despair, cuddling with the man you love, then coming to the scent of his balls so hard you saw stars before taking a boiling hot and amazingly long shower, that was really rejuvenating. Stiles would even hazard to say that he had a skip in his step as he made his way to his room to get dressed, he was in such a good mood!

His mood didn’t even dampen at the splotches of his come on Dad’s underwear—in fact, they made him a little hard—since he had a load of laundry to do anyway. He worked around the house for a bit, getting it cleaned up as he blasted music from his phone and danced around in his boxers and another one of Dad’s sweaters. 

Around four, Stiles got a text from his dad promising him he’d be home in a couple of hours. It had a whole string of heart emojis that made  _ Stiles’ _ heart feel all soft and fluttery, since he’d been the one to show Dad how to use emojis in the first place. 

He was typing out a request for yummy, greasy pizza takeout when he remembered he was supposed to be putting his plan into action and getting his dad to fuck him. 

It hadn’t worked so far, but that didn’t mean Stiles should give up, right?

Plan C wasn’t anything special, but... well, it would be the perfect day to put into action. 

With that thought in mind, Stiles quickly did a pass through the house to make sure everything was neat and tidy before he hummed his way down to the kitchen to begin cooking. 

Cooking was something he’d done with his mom because she loved it. Stiles helped out because it meant that they got to spend time together, but he’d been so little that he hadn’t been able to do a whole lot. After she’d passed, it was something he  _ had  _ to do, to keep him and his dad fed. Stiles tried not to think about that first year, when everything hurt and it felt like he’d lost two parents instead of one. It felt like a lifetime ago, now, even further away since the supernatural had come into his life and turned his whole world on its axis. 

Now, Stiles cooked for them as a labour of love. He wasn’t sure if his dad really got it, but sometimes he’d make Stiles breakfast, or put together little snacks, all with so much care in them that Stiles thought maybe the man did. Cooking for Dad was part of taking care of him, and taking care of him the way he did—tracking his diet, making sure he slept enough, checking in with him at work—were all ways that Stiles showed him his love. 

Nothing else about their relationship was necessarily  _ conventional, _ why should as mundane as who fed who be?

Stiles lost himself in the act of getting dinner ready. Dad  _ loved _ red meat, and Stiles had a few steaks frozen away for a special occasion. He got a slew of veggies ready to roast, made up a sauce, and got a pie in the oven before starting on the meat. By the time the headlights of Dad’s cruisers were lighting up the kitchen, Stiles was about done and ready to get everything plated up. 

He did so carefully, always loving the way Dad would go on about the food he put together for them. He knew that he would need that bit of encouragement tonight, so he took special care with plating their meal. Sure, plan C wasn’t anything more than a dinner date, but he wanted it to be as romantic as possible so it would be impossible for Dad to see it as anything other than exactly what it was. He still had to set the table, but he could do that when Dad was changing. 

The front door closed heavily just as Stiles was dribbling his butter sauce over the thinly-sliced steak. He had his tongue between his teeth as he made sure everything was perfect, and he let out a noise of victory when he finally finished. He quickly moved to get his pot soaking in the sink, listening to Dad’s footsteps. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Dad breathed, and when Stiles turned around to take him in, he was leaning against the doorway and watching Stiles with a soft smile. 

Fuck. Dad was  _ gorgeous. _ The first few buttons of his uniform were undone to show off tanned skin dusted with dark hair. Dad must’ve forgone his undershirt, which meant that he’d been called into work without expecting it. He had his sleeves rolled up, which was sinfully unfair and should probably be illegal, and Stiles had to bite down on a little whimper even as he forced a smile onto his face. 

“You look tired,” Stiles said softly, crossing the kitchen so he could sway into his dad’s space and brush his hair back from his forehead. “Did you sleep alright?”

Dad shrugged, but a hand reached out to grab Stiles’ hip. “Honestly? No. Wilson called me in at the ass crack of dawn. He’d gotten a lead on the drug-ring we’ve been tracking for months, a  _ good _ one, and he wanted us to act on it right away.  _ Fuck,  _ the number of arrests and paperwork I didn’t even  _ finish—” _

“Daddy,” Stiles said softly when Dad trailed off with a rough noise. Stiles stacked bravery onto his shoulders and cupped his face. “I’m sorry you had a rough day.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” Dad said roughly, and then in a move that highlighted just how bad a day he’d had, turned his head to brush a kiss to Stiles’ palm. 

“I made us dinner. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, okay? It’ll be ready whenever you are, so you don’t even need to rush.”

Dad nodded and took a deep breath that tickled the webbing of Stiles’ fingers when he blew it out. They stayed standing like that for too many beats of Stiles’ heart to count, Stiles staring up into Dad’s stormy, pale eyes. There was something  _ heavy  _ about the look in Dad’s eyes, something that drew Stiles in and in and  _ in— _

Dad cleared his throat before Stiles could get too close. A small, apologetic looking smile curled around his lips as he stepped back, and Stiles tried to pretend it didn’t make his heart ache. 

“I-I’m gonna go take that shower,” Dad whispered, voice hoarse, and Stiles wasn’t able to do anything more than nod. 

When Dad left his field of vision, Stiles was able to shake himself out of the trance he’d fallen into. He shot out an arm to rest himself against the wall, taking a deep breath and shaking his head.  _ Fuck. _ Fuck, okay... maybe plan C would actually work? 

Stiles turned back to the counter and realized with a start that their food was gonna get cold. 

Wow. A food lamp had been an  _ amazing  _ purchase. 

Once the food was set to keep warm, Stiles made sure everything was as perfect as he could make it as the shower ran. The table cloth went from corner to corner, the flowers sitting in their vase were bright and fresh smelling, and their utensils were neatly placed. Stiles wasn’t sure what else was supposed to go into a fancy dinner-date, but he figured that was everything he needed, right?

Oh, candles!

Stiles rushed to the living room and grabbed a couple of the tealight candles stacked on the TV shelf and brought them back into the dining room, then spent two minutes painstakingly digging through the entryway cupboard to find a goddamn lighter, and only snagged one when the shower turned off. 

Shit. Stiles didn’t have too much longer, since Dad always got dressed fast. 

Thinking of Dad getting dressed led Stiles to remember he was in  _ boxers and his dad’s sweater _ and nothing else but a pair of fuzzy socks, and he panicked for a second in which his heart stopped beating and his palms started to sweat, before he remembered Dad had already seen him and hadn’t said a thing. 

Hm... it wasn’t the most romantic  _ but _ it was pretty teasing, so... yeah. Yeah, it would do! 

Stiles brought their plates over to the table, then  _ carefully _ brought the heat lamp over as well when Dad didn’t immediately come down the stairs. The last thing he wanted was for their dinner to get ruined by letting it go cold, especially since this meal was one of Dad’s favourite. 

Eventually, Dad descended the stairs. His steps were heavier than normal, which meant he really was tired. Stiles’ heart ached a bit, and he made sure everything was in order so that all Dad would have to do is sit down and have Stiles put his plate in front of him before he could start eating. 

Only, Dad didn’t come straight to the table like Stiles was expecting. He’d turned the overhead light down low, so the candles could twinkle brightly, and it was hard to make out Dad’s expression as he took in the dining room table. Stiles held his breath as Dad swayed in the threshold to the dining room, his eyes moving back between Stiles and the table in a way that made him  _ nervous.  _

Then Dad opened his arms and stumbled a step forward, and Stiles moved forward to catch him in a hug.

“Fuck, kiddo,” Dad breathed, and when Stiles looked up at him, his eyes were shining the low light. “B-Baby,” Dad whispered, and Stiles made a little noise from the back of his throat, “I-I love you so much, Go-Goddamnit, Stiles.”

Dad tugged him into his arms and buried his face in the curve of Stiles’ neck, so Stiles held on just as tightly and hugged him back. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Dad whispered, his voice absolutely  _ broken, _ and his grip went so tight around Stiles’ shoulders that it hurt. 

Then, heartbreakingly, Dad started to cry and all Stiles could do was hold him through it. 

**5\. Drop**

As much as Stiles was totally ready to jump back into his plan of Dad-ly seduction, he figured he should probably wait, like, at least a few days. 

He knew that Dad probably needed some time to calm down after his  _ really _ bad case, so Stiles let them keep going on like they normally did. He didn’t push, even if he wanted to. So he gave his Dad a little bit of a break, making sure that he was resting and eating well as he wrapped up whatever it was that was going on at work. They ate dinner together, snuggled up for movies, and flirted-not-flirted throughout the day, all while Stiles was reworking his plan. 

Because  _ clearly _ he was going to have to do something a little bit more extreme if he was going to make something happen. 

After a week of existing the way they’d been existing and not talking about the way Dad blushed when Stiles called him “Daddy”, or how he got jealous whenever Stiles brought up Jordan, days of  _ definitely not  _ talking about the way they’d started cuddling up much closer than ever before or the way Dad had called him “Baby”, Stiles was...

Stiles was getting desperate. 

Stiles was getting really,  _ really _ desperate. 

Plan A had been a setback. Plan B had been a disappointment. Plan C had been... well Dad had kinda derailed plan C with his (very appropriate and understandable) man angst, and while they’d eaten dinner together, Dad had also cried into his shoulder for like twenty minutes, so...

Stiles wasn’t calling that one a success. 

Even if Dad  _ did _ call him “Baby” for the first time. 

Moral of the story: he was desperate, and he needed to move onto the next part of his plan. Plan D, which was  _ very _ aptly named, thank you very much,  _ had _ to work. Stiles didn’t know what he would  _ do _ if plan D didn’t work, considering the fact that he was, like, going out of his mind with want. Because other than that one night where he’d gotten down in the dumps, Stiles  _ knew _ Dad wanted him. There was no other answer when all the different questions added up. 

Stiles wanted his dad, and his dad wanted him. There was no denying it from Stiles’ end, and Stiles was pretty sure his dad was getting closer and closer to giving in, too.

He just needed to push him over the edge. 

Plan D  _ had _ to push him over the edge. 

Stiles took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror. Then he looked  _ away _ from himself since that probably wasn’t the best idea if he was trying to gather the confidence to actually follow through on plan D. He was ready. Well, by  _ ready _ Stiles meant that he was dressed, which meant that he was in underwear. Special underwear. Underwear he’d gotten for plan D and for no other purpose. 

The internet had  _ lots _ of things one could buy, and the tight, very skimpy black briefs that he had on had definitely been on online purchase. 

They were... well, they were  _ very _ tight. Against his dick. Over his ass. Just in general, they were very tight and very small and... yeah, okay, Stiles turned around for another look and  _ everything _ was on display. That was good though, right? Appealing? It was totally appealing that he could see the head of his dick through his underwear. If he saw the head of  _ Dad’s _ dick through his underwear, Stiles would be  _ really _ into it, so it probably went both ways, right?

Right. 

He could do this. 

He could do this  _ and _ it would work. 

Stiles had given up on manifestation, but a little pep talk never hurt anyone! He left his phone on his bedside table as he walked to his door, then walked back and considered sending a photo to Jordan. The deputy was  _ always _ encouraging—the supernatural  _ really _ lowered your threshold for taboos—but Stiles figured that might be a little too far. 

Well... and illegal, since his birthday wasn’t for a few months. 

Okay, no photos. Stiles didn’t  _ need _ photos, anyway! He looked great! He totally looked great, and he didn’t need anyone else to tell him he looked great, ‘cause he believed it and his dad would think so too, Stiles was sure, and  _ wow _ he really needed to go downstairs. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles ignored the way he was a little cold standing around in nothing but briefs, and quickly made his way to the top of the stairs. He could hear music playing from the kitchen where Dad was making sauce, since this Sunday just so happened to be Sunday Sauce Day, and Stiles did his best to ignore just how nervous he was. 

Nerves were fake, anyway. Besides, there was nothing to be nervous about! Worst case scenario, Dad was uncomfortable, and  _ best-case _ scenario, Dad snapped and finally fucked him, so... he really didn’t have a lot to lose. 

Well, that was as inspiring a thought as any, and with that inspiring thought, Stiles quietly walked downstairs. 

Dad was singing as he stirred something on the stove. Stiles watched from the entryway, doing his best not to, like, throw up now that he was actually here. Sure, plan D might reek of desperation, but Stiles  _ was _ desperate! He was tired of waiting and wondering and  _ wanting, _ when he was sure that he could just  _ have, _ if Dad could just get over himself and whatever hang-ups were keeping him from just  _ doing _ something. 

Stiles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could do this. 

“Daddy,” Stiles called quietly, forcing himself to keep his hands at his sides and not cover anything up. “Have you seen your sweater?”

“Which one, kiddo?” Dad asked, and then turned around with the  _ huge _ pot of the pasta sauce he made every couple of months, and—

Dad dropped it. 

The pot slammed into the ground and sent tomato sauce flying  _ all over the kitchen _ and Dad’s eyes tracked down his frame so heavily that Stiles could  _ feel _ his gaze. A shiver wracked down his spine as goosebumps erupted across his arms, pebbled the skin of his legs, and his heart started to race as the look in Dad’s eyes flooded him with arousal that made him feel warm. 

“Baby—” Dad said, sounding  _ wrecked, _ and Stiles' eyes dropped to the crotch of his worn, grey sweatpants only to find a  _ very _ noticeable bulge that got his own dick plumping up in his briefs. 

“Is everything okay Daddy?” Stiles asked, as sweetly as he could with the way arousal was flooding him and making him feel breathless. 

“What are you doing?” Dad asked, his eyes coming up to Stiles’ face before tracking back  _ down, _ until they were glued to his crotch and staring at where Stiles was growing harder and harder, until, God, he was  _ so _ hard. 

“Oh! I g-got new underwear in the mail. Do you not like them, D-Daddy?,” Stiles asked, more on the tip of his tongue but before he could say  _ anything, _ Dad was shaking his head and backing up into the stove. 

“I’m going out,” Dad choked out, and then rushed to the front door. 

Stiles shuffled into the hall to watch him leave, heart climbing into his throat as Dad didn’t even slip on  _ shoes _ before he rushed out the front door, slamming it behind him. Stiles slipped back into the kitchen to watch him climb into the cruiser through the dining room windows, and saw him reverse jerkily before he sped off down the street. 

Something big and painful and  _ angry _ climbed up his chest and wrapped all the way around Stiles’ heart until he could barely  _ breathe.  _ Fuck, he was so angry, angry enough that Stiles stomped his foot on the ground as frustrated tears welled up in his eyes. 

Men! 

**+1. Cave**

Despite his incandescent  _ rage, _ Stiles totally wasn’t ready to give up on his plan. A rogue Wendigo had different ideas. 

* * *

Stiles could hear the steady beep of a heart monitor, but it felt far away. His head was heavy, like all the pressure in the room was pressing down on him. Smacking his lips together, Stiles grumbled when his mouth tasted like  _ ass, _ gross. 

The heart monitor kept beeping. He didn’t wake up. 

* * *

Stiles was told what happened the next (first) time he  _ actually _ woke up. As it turned out, turning your back on a wild Wendigo you  _ thought _ was dead was, uh, not the best idea if you hadn’t made sure. Dad explained what went down in starts and stops, and Stiles did his best to listen even with his head still feeling a little light and airy. Thankfully the wound wasn’t  _ too _ bad—or so Melissa told them; if anyone were to ask Stiles, he would have told them it felt like his shoulder had been bitten  _ off— _ so Dad was able to take him home. 

He drifted throughout the car ride. Dad had brought him a pillow, so he put it between the window and his head as he watched Beacon Hills pass by through half-shut eyes. 

Halfway home, Dad’s hand settled warm and heavy on his thigh, and Stiles covered it with his own hand. 

Sometime later, Dad rumbled, “Kiddo, we’re home,” and Stiles blinked his eyes open to find that they were in their driveway. 

Stiles made a noise, which was more of a wordless whine than a word, and he grumbled unhappily when Dad took his hand back. Still, Stiles didn’t outwardly react. His body felt heavy, and he knew it would take too much energy to reach out and grab Dad before he got out of the car. Instead, he watched Dad round the cruiser to get to his side, and did his best to sit up when the door holding him up was gently peeled open. 

Dad helped him stand, and Stiles leaned on him heavily as he nuzzled at his throat. He could tell that Dad was tired just looking at him, but it was obvious, even as drugged out at Stiles was, that Dad was trying not to show it. They got inside, and Stiles rested against the wall as Dad bent down to untie his shoes. 

“Not how I wanted to get you on your knees,” Stiles slurred quietly, which got him a broken-sounding laugh as Dad leaned forward to rest his face against Stiles’ belly. 

They stood that way for... Stiles wasn’t sure, but he carded his fingers through Dad’s hair with his good arm. He didn’t mind waiting. Sure, he wanted to get in bed and let the  _ good _ drugs do their thing and sleep, but Dad seemed to need a second and Stiles was more than fine with giving it to him. 

Eventually, Dad stood up, groaning in a way that Stiles didn’t like. Still, Stiles let Dad lead him upstairs. He didn’t think to question it when Dad brought them both into his room, and he didn’t say anything when Dad slowly, carefully, peeled off the medical gown he still had on. Stiles was already in sweatpants, so Dad pushed those down his hips, and he shivered when Dad’s fingers brushed his thighs. 

“Daddy?”

“Shh, baby, it’s alright,” Dad whispered, pulling him against his chest. “I’m just getting us ready for bed, okay? I gotta have you close tonight, kiddo.”

Stiles hummed happily as he breathed Dad in, hugging him back loosely. “Snuggles are the best medicine,” he agreed, which earned him a warm chuckle. 

After that, he drifted through his thoughts. Dad helped him move to sit on the edge of his bed, and Stiles watched Dad get undressed through half-lidded eyes. It was everything he’d ever wanted, but whatever they’d given him was  _ seriously _ doing a number on him, and he felt too weighed down to move. He could still appreciate the view, though, and Stiles did his best to let out a wolf-whistle as Dad stripped down into a navy pair of boxers. 

Stiles moved willingly under Dad’s hands, and soon enough he was asleep. 

* * *

Stiles woke up slowly, stretching his back and groaning loudly when his shoulder tugged uncomfortably and lit up with pain that sent an uncomfortable shiver racing down his spine.  _ Holy shit, _ that was  _ not _ fun. Stiles made a soft noise of protest as he tried to shift his weight around to get into a position that hurt less.  _ Oh God, _ getting a chunk of flesh taken out of your shoulder fucking  _ sucked ass, _ even with Melissa’s  _ amazing _ supernatural healing knowledge. 

Shit, at least his head was clear?

Thinking  _ that _ brought back the absolutely  _ terrifying _ memory of having a Wendigo use him as a chew toy, and Stiles’ heart kicked up until a hand settled on his head. Slowly, a set of sure fingers ran through his hair. Small knots caught and were gently worked out, and another shiver made its way down Stiles’ smile as goosebumps ran across his skin. 

“Oh,” Stiles said softly, arching his back to press his head further into the hand playing with his hair. 

“Morning, kiddo.” Dad’s voice was a low rumble that pebbled his skin further, and another, softer noise slipped out of his mouth. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore,” Stiles said quietly. He used his good hand to scrub at his face, trying to push away the last bits of sleepy drowsiness still clinging to him. 

“I can only imagine, baby,” Dad whispered, his hand still softly running through his hair. Stiles blinked, shocked, and focused on his surroundings a little bit more. 

He was in Dad’s room, in Dad’s  _ bed— _ which wasn’t incredibly unusual in and of itself. If a nightmare was bad enough, or if it was a dream about  _ Dad, _ sometimes the only way for Stiles to get back to sleep was to crawl into bed with him. Sometimes, the only thing that would help him just  _ calm down _ was to reassure himself that the man was alive, and there was no better way of doing that than feeling asleep to the steady rhythm of Dad’s breathing. 

So it wasn’t unusual to be in Dad’s bed, but it was  _ definitely _ a little unusual to be in Dad’s bed in his  _ underwear, _ with Dad’s hand in his hair and the hair of his thigh tickling his good shoulder. 

Wait, hair of his...

“Daddy, did you sleep sitting like that?” Stiles asked, his words still heavy with sleep but the reprimand clear in his tone. 

Dad laughed wetly, and when Stiles blinked the haze of sleep from his eyes enough to focus on his face, Dad was crying. Stiles tried to move, but his shoulder protested. He had to grit his teeth against a wash of pain and a flood of annoyance at wanting to pull Dad down into an embrace but not being able to. 

“Whaddya doing?” Stiles asked, as sternly as he could. “You know your back has been sore! You can’t sleep sitting up like that, oh my gosh.”

“I’m fine, kiddo,” Dad told him, but he was still crying. 

Stiles reached up and patted at his face, doing his best to wipe away his tears even if he couldn’t  _ really _ move like that because of the way it pulled at his shoulders. Dad snagged his hand before he could twist himself too far back, and Stiles’ heart started racing when he kissed his palm. 

Oh. _ Oh.  _

“Come here?” Stiles asked, whisper-soft in the early morning light streaming in from the slit between Dad’s curtain. 

Dad nodded his head, lips still pressed against Stiles’ hand, and he took a deep breath. Stiles watched, a crink forming in his neck from the way his head was tipped back, as Dad shifted around. He had to lift the covers to slide down the bed, and Stiles made a breathless noise from the back of his throat when he realized he wasn’t the  _ only _ one in only their underwear. His eyes heavily tracked over Dad’s abdomen, getting caught on the way his boxers were filled in the front, before taking in the dark hair that dusted his thighs. 

“What are you...” Stiles trailed off when Dad finally settled, letting the blanket fall back over their waists. Stiles pouted. “Aw, boo.”

Dad laughed, just as wet as before, and Stiles started wiggling around until Dad helped him get onto his side. It wasn’t quite as comfortable, but Stiles figured  _ no _ position that involved lying down would be comfortable for a few weeks. 

Stiles watched Dad get himself settled, slipping an arm under his head in a way that did  _ excellent _ things for his bicep. Wow, alright, Stiles was  _ really _ liking what Dad looked like lying nearly naked next to him. 

“Dad... are you okay?” Stiles asked in a whisper, reaching forward and finally wiping away the trail of tears that was wetting Dad’s cheek. He only winced a little at moving his arm. 

“I almost lost you, kiddo,” Dad whispered, and his voice was so  _ broken _ that Stiles let out a soft whimper in response. 

“I’m fine,” he told him, trying for the most reassuring smile that he could manage. 

“T-That doesn’t matter.” Dad took a deep breath and made a noise that sounded pained. In a voice that was little more than gravel, Dad muttered, “You could have  _ died.” _

“Daddy,” Stiles whispered, wrapping his fingers around his side and tugging, making a frustrated noise when he couldn’t just  _ move _ close like he wanted. “C’mere,  _ please.” _

Dad nodded, and moved forward to close the space between them. Stiles’ heart was racing against his chest, but he did his best to ignore the growing bit of nerves tightening his belly as he focused instead on the way Dad slid his leg between Stiles’ own to tangle their limbs together. 

“I could have lost you,” Dad said again, heavier, his damp eyes shining in the scant space between them. “I could have lost you without ever having you.”

Stiles’ heart tripped over itself and his breath caught up in his throat. He made a soft little noise as Dad’s hand settled hot and heavy on his hip, while Stiles’ own hand slid up between his shoulder blades. 

In a whisper, Stiles admitted, “You’ve always had me.”

“Baby,” Dad growled. Another tear slipped down his face, and Stiles quickly reached up to wipe it away as his own eyes started burning empathically. 

“I love you,” Stiles whispered, and then—

Stiles tipped his head back as Dad leaned in, letting his eyes flutter shut. The first brush of their lips was so soft he  _ ached _ with it, down to his toes, and Dad made a deep noise that sent a shiver racing down Stiles’ spine. Stiles pressed up for more, wanting and needing Dad  _ closer. _

Their next kiss was harsher. Dad pressed their lips together with force, and his hand slid up Stiles’ side, skirted over his bandaged shoulder, and cupped his cheek. Stiles pressed into it, moving their lips together as his whole body lit up, fire hot and strumming with energy. Dad’s foot wrapped around his calf to tangle their legs up even further, and Stiles  _ yearned. _

Moaning softly, Stiles pulled back enough to whisper, “Daddy,” against his closed lips. 

_ That _ got things going. 

Dad’s hand moved from his cheek to the small of his back and tugged him in until they were pressed together from toes to chest. Stiles let out a gasp when their hips met, and then before he could take a breath, Dad was kissing him  _ again. _

This time, Dad kissed him like he was  _ claiming _ him. Stiles fell into it, tipping his head back and opening up his mouth so Dad could kiss him wet and hungry. Stiles did his best to kiss him back, feeling wholly unprepared despite the few times he’d practised with Jordan for just this reason. Mimicking Dad’s movements was easy enough, and as lips and tongues slid together, arousal grew in Stiles' body until he was burning with it. 

_ Fuck. _

“Daddy,” Stiles moaned, low in his throat as he moved to pepper kisses to Dad’s stubbled jaw so he could catch his breath. 

He let himself follow whatever felt good, and he dragged his lips wetly across Dad’s throat before he started sucking and nibbling on a muscle strained by the way Dad was lying. 

Dad laughed, tossing his head back in a way that gave Stiles better access to his throat. Yummy! 

“Baby, you gotta stop calling me Daddy so much. It does things to my heart that my heart’s too old for.”

It was Stiles’ turn to laugh, and he let out a peal of giggles into Dad’s collarbone. “Oh my God,” he breathed, pressing his hips forward to feel just how interested his dad was. “Are you serious?”

Dad pulled back to look at him with a stern expression, and Stiles fell into another laughing fit. 

“No, baby, I’m kidding. I am totally capable of hearing you call me Daddy and be completely and totally unaffected.”

Stiles pulled back to look at him. Dad looked serious, and Stiles knew what he looked like when he was lying. There wasn’t even a  _ trace _ of anything but the truth spread out across his face, and Stiles sucked in a sharp breath as something turned over in his belly. 

“You really want me?” Stiles asked in a whisper, trying to fight down something dark and ugly but not totally managing. 

“Baby, I want you  _ so  _ badly. Fuck, you have no fucking  _ idea _ how badly I want you,” Dad swore, his voice a deep rumbling thing. 

“I... might have a little bit of an idea,” Stiles whispered, his face going warm. “I have a list of evidence, actually.”

“A list of evidence?” Dad asked, barking out a laugh. “Fuck, baby, I love you.”

Stiles bit his lip to keep his beaming smile from getting so big it hurt his cheeks, but it was tough work. Despite the admittance, there was still something he couldn’t help wondering.

“Did...” Stiles took a deep breath as he considered if he should even ask what he wanted to ask, and then told himself “fuck it”. He already had Dad in his arms, what could really go wrong?

“The first time I c-called you Daddy... you—you ran upstairs—” Stiles cut himself off, biting into his bottom lip as he looked at Dad instead of saying anything else. How did you ask someone  _ that?  _

But Dad seemed to understand. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and his cheeks pinked with a blush. Stiles reached up to feel the heat of his skin against his fingers. “Y-Yeah, I had to go tug one out.”

_ “Really?” _

“Really, really,” Dad admitted. “Fuck, I was off like a goddamn rocket, too. Quickest orgasm I’ve had in ages.”

_ That _ made Stiles’ belly go warm. Shit. 

“Shouldn’t have wasted it,” Stiles mumbled under his breath, and repeated himself louder when Dad asked him to.

Dad’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, and his blush got deeper. “Wasted it, huh?” 

Stiles nodded his head, pushing past the lump in his throat and the swirling bit of nerves in his belly to say, “Mhm. A solo orgasm is a wasted orgasm, Daddy. It’s not fair to the orgasm!” 

Dad chuckled and smiled at him fondly, and Stiles’ chest felt fit to burst. “That gonna be a new house rule, kiddo? Anything else gonna be changing around here now that you’ve finally got me to crack?”

Stiles beamed at him, smiling widely. Sure, he may not have been being  _ subtle, _ but he didn’t think Dad was ever going to admit to knowing what Stiles had been doing, let  _ alone _ go along with it. He had been hopeful. He had been  _ so _ hopeful, but if his shoulder wasn’t aching so badly, Stiles would’ve thought he was still dreaming. 

But he  _ wasn’t _ dreaming. 

This was real. 

“Hell yeah! Oh, and kisses! We gotta start  _ and _ end every day with  _ lots _ of kisses, and kisses in between, and your bed is like,  _ way _ more comfortable than mine so I’ll also be moving in here right away. Hm... you’re going to have to keep eating good so you can live really long, and pretty soon we’ll have to move, so we gotta start thinking about how that’s gonna work ‘cause I am  _ not _ leaving you alone in this godforsaken town when I start college.”

Dad’s smile went so wide Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. God, he was beautiful. “Oh, you won’t, huh?”

“Sure won’t,  _ Daddy.” _

Dad’s face went soft, and as Stiles stared up in his bright, clear eyes, he felt something settle in his chest. 

“Fuck, I love you so much, kiddo,” Dad told him, pressing the words against his lips that felt like a promise. 

“I love you too,” Stiles whispered back, and made it into one.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> kudos aren’t the same as getting a comment, not even close. so a comment, as short and sweet or as sprawling and sporadic as you can manage, would be _greatly_ appreciated! don't know what to comment? how about _”this was great!”_ or _“awesome work!”_


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